


nostalgic night

by heartjoongs (krucxa)



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Dream Reality Confusion, Dreams vs. Reality, Fluff and Angst, LITERALLY, M/M, OR: yeosang finds a book. hongjoong coincidentally starts dreaming of the book's events, Prince Park Seonghwa, Timey-Wimey, bc thats like my brand at this point lmao, like a time loop but not really?, sensitive content, that's all the explanation you're gonna get sorry, this came to me in a dream, this... is confusing to tag, warnings in the notes!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:22:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krucxa/pseuds/heartjoongs
Summary: There's a sense of longing, deep in his chest, as he looks at the man in front of him, something he's never felt before. Emotions he couldn't even name.At that moment, Hongjoong doesn't have to wonder too much, he already knows the answer. It doesn't come as a sudden realization, rather an awareness he's known for years now, not a question but a fact.


Here, in this simple field, next to the man of his dreams, Hongjoong is in love.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 9
Kudos: 36





	nostalgic night

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so. this had been in my drafts for... a really long time. it's not perfect and isn't even beta read but if i didn't post this now i think i would just delete it tbh. anyway!
> 
> i didn't tag this work as major character death because... it fits but it also doesn't. this entire fic is timey wimey dreams / reality confusion and as much as it revolves around death, it isn't actually... permanent? i'm not sure how to explain this, but if this topic makes you uncomfortable, PLEASE don't read this fic !!!
> 
> if you decide to read this anyway: i hope you're ready bc this is gonna be a Wild Ride

"Hongjoong!"

The volume of the (unfortunately) familiar voice carries over the room, and at any other time, Hongjoong wouldn't really mind it that much. But this is a library, and he's in the middle of trying to write an assignment he's procrastinated on for too long, so the last thing he'd want to happen is to get the librarian's attention.

His head snaps up to meet San's gaze, the boy waving at him wildly with no care of his surroundings, almost elbowing his company in his enthusiasm. It's only by luck that Yeosang manages to duck in time, and he sends Hongjoong a pleading look, which, sadly, Hongjoong very much so relates to.

Bringing a finger to his lips, he glares at his overeager friend, "quiet down, you'll get us kicked out," then motions for the duo to sit with him anyway, even if it might be a risk to his studying.

At least San has the decency to look guilty as he throws his bag on top of the table and plops into the seat across Hongjoong. Yeosang follows, although reluctantly, but then his face lights up when he turns to Hongjoong and he already knows the library rules are about to be broken once more.

San makes a disgruntled sound when Yeosang unceremoniously shoves him to the side, taking a seat and laying a book next to San's bag with a heavy _thud_ , the noise loud enough to startle the other two.

"Joong, you're not gonna fucking believe this—"

Unconvinced, he trails his gaze up from the book to meet Yeosang's eyes, then back down at the offending object. Now that he's actually, really looking at it, he can't help but notice a few questionable details about it; the hard cover that seems to be torn at the edges, solid brown and no title or the name of the author in sight. The book's been clearly used for years now, visibly worn out enough so Hongjoong would go as far as to guess that if he were to flip through it the pages would've appeared more yellow than the original white. Now, this isn't something that would usually fit his taste, but for a reason unknown to him, Hongjoong feels surprisingly drawn to it.

"What is it?" he finally speaks up after he realizes Yeosang's waiting for some kind of response, and the moment the words leave his mouth the boy's lips pull into a satisfied smile.

"This," he gestures towards the book, "is what I found yesterday right before my shift ended. Honestly, at first I thought it was someone's journal, but the tea shop was already completely empty apart from me and it only took a single look inside to realize it's actually a novel, and, also, the most interesting story I've ever read and my favorite book as of now— even though I've only read the first few chapters until now."

Tearing his eyes away from the book in question, he shoots Yeosang a look, "and… why are you telling me this?"

"Because he's now obsessed and won't shut up about it," San butts in before Yeosang even gets to reply and the boy turns to glare at him. He's got this kind of murderous intent in his gaze at times like these that even Hongjoong has to look away.

"Anyway," he clears his throat in hopes of breaking the tension (and avoiding San's upcoming mysterious murder), "so… what's it about? Since you love it so much?"

"Well, buckle up because this here is a wild ride," he raises an eyebrow in response but chooses not to question it, instead leaning back in his chair while Yeosang does the opposite, inching closer and resting his arms on the table between them, "it tells the story of a young prince and his servant, who have known each other their entire lives. Their relationship is heavily implied to be more than a simple friendship, though it's not explicitly stated as a romance. Early in the book, the prince dies— a tower collapses with the prince in it, the servant being the only one inside to come out alive, who continues to serve the royal family while trying his best to cope with his beloved's death."

"...Whoa."

Hongjoong blinks, thrown completely off-guard by the uneasy feeling that slides deep down his chest, anchors at the pit of his stomach. He's not sure when, exactly, his lips parted, but now that he's aware of it he clamps them shut, staring at Yeosang with wonder, "that's… really dark."

"I know right?" the younger nods, nudging the book lightly, "like, it describes all these emotions so perfectly, and the entire universe it creates, the little details, it's so easy to read and it feels so natural, as if it's not just a story but real events! I could literally _feel_ the servant's grief while reading this, it's just— brilliant."

Pointing towards the blank cover, he asks, simply out of curiosity, "does it have a title?"

But Yeosang only shakes his head, "as far as I know, no. It doesn't even state the name of the writer, not at the beginning, and not even at the end, believe me, I checked. Which sucks, honestly, I'd love to read more of the author's books, but I guess I'll just have to settle for just finishing this one."

Hongjoong hums a confused sound and San wiggles in his seat, impatient, "maybe it's just a draft and the author left it at your work by accident," he comments, but Yeosang shuts him down quickly.

"Why would anyone print an entire book if it's just a draft? Besides, you can easily tell this has been made a long time ago, no one would just casually carry around a book like this."

Hongjoong turns to stare at the topic of their conversation again, muting the duo's banter out. Despite the heavy plot of the novel, he finds himself curious to know more, the short explanation Yeosang gave him enough to pique his interest. He feels a certain urge to reach out for the book, weirdly pulled towards it, but suppresses it, sliding his eyes away from the table. Gaze locked on the floor, he tunes back into his friends' chatter.

"I can update you later on the progress of the plot, if you wouldn't mind me rambling again," Yeosang offers, and even though Hongjoong's never been the one to read that much, he finds himself eagerly agreeing.

Though there's still one thing remaining that will bug him for the rest of the day, "but… how did this book even get there, then?"

Yeosang blinks, eyes dropping to the novel resting between the three of them, "...I wish I knew."

  


『❀』

  


_That night, Hongjoong dreams. Which in on itself is already out of the ordinary — Hongjoong doesn't dream, period. If his rest doesn't consist of nightmares, there is no alternative. Void. He either wakes up drenched in his own sweat while his heart races a mile a minute or he wakes up with no recollection of a single thing. And usually, this is the norm._

_Until suddenly it's not._

_When he opens his eyes, he's met with the sight of a wide grass field he's never seen before. It's quiet, almost infuriatingly so — Hongjoong's lived his whole life in the city, the peaceful silence feels unfamiliar, but somehow still comfortable. It's calming; the smell of dirt he's lying on top of, the clear shade of the sky above, barely any clouds in sight, the occasional gusts of wind that ruffles his hair — he takes a deep, steadying breath and splays his fingers over the grass, buries them deep into the dirt, just letting himself feel the texture, how painfully _real_ it all seems. Like this, he feels at ease, like he can truly relax for once. He's free._

_"You seem to be in a good mood today," a velvety voice pulls him out of his thoughts; but he doesn't startle, not really, as if he's expected to hear it at some point. It feels familiar, it feels right, for seemingly no reason at all._

_The amused tone has him smiling. His heart feels full, but why?_

_Turning his head to the side to face the source of the voice, his breath hitches when he sees the most beautiful person on earth lying mere inches away from him. The man's gaze is warm when Hongjoong meets his eye, tousled black hair casting shadows over his cheeks, somehow only managing to make him look even more breathtaking. If Hongjoong didn't know better, he'd swear angels went out of their way to capture all the night's stars inside the man's eyes. His cheeks flushed, just a tint of red, but whether from the warm weather or something else, Hongjoong could only guess._

_There's a sense of longing, deep in his chest, as he looks at the man in front of him, something he's never felt before. Emotions he couldn't even name._

_At that moment, Hongjoong doesn't have to wonder too much, he already knows the answer. It doesn't come as a sudden realization, rather an awareness he's known for years now, not a question but a fact._

_Here, in this simple field, next to the man of his dreams, Hongjoong is in love._

_If he spends too much time staring silently at the other, the man doesn't question it. He only smiles wider, looking, dare he say it, fond— it does something to Hongjoong's heart, something he'd rather not ponder about. He takes notice of the other's clothes, so much different from what Hongjoong's used to seeing but so strangely familiar at the same time; to top it all off, a crown rests on the man's head, and it doesn't feel conceited, it feels correct, a rightful title for the man in front of him._

_"I am," he says, surprised at how affectionate his own voice sounds, then adds as an afterthought, "your Highness."_

_The other wrinkles his nose in response, which legally shouldn't be as endearing as it is, "how many times do I have to say you can drop the honorifics when we're alone? Just call me by my name."_

_The statement causes him to chuckle, a deep, genuine sound. He's not sure why he feels so happy just to be in the other's presence, "old habits die hard," he admits, takes his time to admire the man's beauty, and only then continues his thought, "but I can promise I'll try, Seonghwa."_

_The responding smile is more than enough._

  


『❀』

  


Hongjoong wakes up disoriented, aware of one too many things at once. He stays like that, hands twisted in the blanket and eyes boring into the wall for what feels like hours before finally crawling out of the bed to get ready for the day.

"Dude, are you okay?" is what Wooyoung greets him with the moment he steps into the kitchen. The younger's standing by the counter, seemingly in the middle of making himself a sandwich and in a way better mood than Hongjoong is, judging by the cheerful look in his eye.

Hongjoong only continues to stare at him blankly until he adds in, "...you look pretty weirded out."

Which is also actually an accurate description of how he currently feels, damn Wooyoung and his perceptiveness. Dropping his gaze to the floor, he pads closer and turns on the kettle, "uh, yeah. I did have a pretty weird dream."

Apparently done with his task, Wooyoung side glances Hongjoong then points the sandwich at him, "like, a good weird or a bad weird?"

In that moment, he's reminded of the dream, the ethereal man who stole his heart with just a single smile, whose name Hongjoong's dream self seemed to know well. Now that he thinks about it, he can't wrap his head around the whole thing, nor why he dreamt of anything in the first place, why he felt so infatuated with the mystery nobleman.

He just tries to shrug it off.

"I think… the good kind of weird."

He watches as Wooyoung takes a bite of the sandwich then smiles at Hongjoong, "nice. You should cherish that. Who knows when you'll have a nice dream again."

At the moment Hongjoong only chides him for speaking with his mouth full, but later on, he wonders about Wooyoung's interesting choice of words — after all, shouldn't it be a case of _if_ rather than _when_?

He shoves the thought to the back of his mind, where it remains for the rest of the day. Hongjoong's reminded of it by the smallest things throughout the lectures, as if he has nothing better to do than wonder about the dream that shouldn't have existed in the first place. He can't focus on what he's supposed to no matter how hard he tries to force himself to and by the time he meets Yeosang and San again he thinks he might be going mad.

Okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic, but Hongjoong's never been the type to overthink things like that, so this is new territory for him.

The moment he spots the two inside the cafeteria, he stops in place and points his finger at Yeosang, "you."

The boy exchanges a bewildered glance with San, proceeding to hesitantly point to his chest. He raises his eyebrows, mouthing _me?_ and Hongjoong nods before making his way over.

"I had a weird dream today, which, as you know, _never_ happens," he states as he sits next to San, leaning over him to glare at Yeosang, "and it's all your fault."

Yeosang blinks.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he starts, then trails off when he realizes he's not sure where to begin. He nibbles on his lip then carefully speaks up again, "for one, it wasn't a nightmare, which is already out of the ordinary. It was actually kinda relaxing, I guess. And… there was this dude."

"Was he cute?"

Hongjoong shoots San a glare for interrupting, and the other only raises his hands defensively, "what? That's an important question."

And, well. Hongjoong can't really argue with that. So he glares some more, then turns away and clears his throat, "maybe so, but that's besides the point."

Ignoring San's mutter of _hell yeah_ , he continues, "anyway, I think it's all because of that book you told me about, the one with the prince and all? I don't know, the man from the dream was wearing clothes that you'd only see in history books nowadays, and— oh, he also had a crown. Yeah."

When he looks at Yeosang again, he finds the boy already staring back at him, clearly interested in what he has to say. A wrinkle forms between his eyebrows as he hums, rubbing his chin, "so, a prince?"

Hongjoong winces, "how would I know?"

But Yeosang shoots him a _look_ , the one that never fails to make Hongjoong feel uneasy, and he swears he can _feel_ San tremble next to him, "not that many people wear crowns, I'd imagine."

"...Point taken."

With that, Yeosang smiles, but that uneasy feeling remains for longer than Hongjoong would like it to. He looks away, scratches the back of his neck, then finally asks, "does the book reveal the name of the prince?"

Yeosang glances at him. If Hongjoong didn't know the other as well as he does, he'd think the boy lost interest in the conversation, but by now he knows well enough that would be a misinterpretation. Yeosang loves books, he's heard him ramble about them too many times to forget that fact, and he's noticed how well the younger keeps his emotions in check whenever he wants to — he's just trying to act cool right now, as if he wasn't mere seconds away from talking both San and Hongjoong's ears off just now, "...why do you ask?"

He licks his lips, a habit he's never really grown out of, then replies, "the prince in my dream… his name was Seonghwa."

In the exact moment the name slips past his lips, Yeosang stills. Gaze locked onto the table, he doesn't even react when San waves his hand in front of his face, only blinks when Hongjoong pats his shoulder, "you okay?"

The younger only stares at him in response. Hongjoong counts up to five seconds before Yeosang opens his mouth again, "that's… that's the same name as in the book. But I haven't mentioned it before, right? I don't think I did."

Huh.

"That's… a funny coincidence."

"Yeah. A coincidence," Yeosang repeats, eyes still not straying away from Hongjoong, and San watches the two but doesn't comment.

  


『❀』

  


It starts raining by the time he gets home, but it's nothing more than background noise to him as he lays on his bed, letting his imagination run wild.

It started slow, barely a drizzle, nothing that really bothered him while he made his way back. With time, though, as he stayed inside his room and counted the minutes that passed by inside, he grew vaguely aware of the weather outside changing into heavy rainfall, something that he can still hear even through his earphones. But it adds to the melody he's listening to, adds something melancholic to the song, a feeling that spreads through Hongjoong's chest and once again he's reminded of the man from his dream.

It doesn't make sense. Not even in the slightest. The prince is nothing more than a figment of his imagination, just a mirage that his brain made up while he slept. People usually forget most of their dreams anyway, and Hongjoong never even gets dreams in the first place — he shouldn't see the man as anything more but an insignificant phantasm.

Except, for some reason, every time he closes his eyes he can still see the image of the prince's smile, so gentle, so genuine, just the memory of it is enough to fill his chest with a sense of warmth.

The melody trails on, and Hongjoong's heart is aflame.

Just like that, he drifts off for the night.

_When he opens his eyes again, it's to the image of the same man as the night before; he probably shouldn't feel as happy about the fact as he does, but, well, it's not like anyone aside from him will ever know._

_He blinks, taking in his surroundings. He's standing by the side of what appears to be a dining room, and, as he guesses, inside the royal castle itself. The prince is sitting by the table, accompanied by the rest of his family, but Hongjoong can't tear his eyes away from the other once he looks at him again. Occasionally, a maid or another servant enters the room, silently taking care of whatever their work is, bowing in respect whenever spoken to, and that's when Hongjoong notices he's one of the only few people besides the royal family that stays inside the room, although keeping their distance. He glances to his side, taking note of the (ridiculously tall) boy beside him, but averts his eyes before the other could notice him looking._

_Even so, he doesn't feel nervous. Instead, all he feels is giddy when finally, finally, he manages to catch Seonghwa's eye, and the prince sends him a secretive smile before quickly looking away._

_He wishes he could walk over, start a conversation, make the other smile at least once more. He wishes the prince would smile_ at him _, specifically, again, that they could interact freely, that he could hold the prince's hand in public without fear of the consequences._

_But all he is, is a servant. All they can share are small moments while alone._

_So he stays in place and adores the man of his dreams from afar._

  


『❀』

  


It's cold.

He forgot about the chilly weather outside, having opened the window before letting the fact promptly slip his mind. He's only partly aware of the cool air that tickles his skin, he's too focused on the journal lying before him.

Now, he's never been the type to religiously write down every situation and every memory. But he thinks, it's nice to pour his thoughts onto paper every once in a while — when there's something that just won't leave his mind, something that sticks with him throughout a whole day, that's when he deems it necessary.

It's the second night in a row that he's dreamt of the same exact thing. Okay, maybe not exactly. The circumstances were different, but what connected both of the dreams was the prince. Seonghwa.

He writes that fact down.

He's not sure what to follow that with. He's made sure to research it — some believe that dreams have meanings, right? Your mind trying to tell you, or warn you, of something. But all he got were comments that didn't really help his situation. Sure, a dream of a field, the closest thing it apparently symbolizes that Hongjoong relates to is the need for freedom, but then, who doesn't?

With that in mind, he gave up on reading anything further.

He blinks down at the page. Hesitantly, he draws a bullet point, then scrawls, _a prince_ , but it doesn't feel right. He wiggles in his seat, playing with the pen before scratching it out, correcting the words to _my prince_. A small change, yet it fills him with a sense of comfort. For whatever reason.

Another fact he would rather ignore, but keeps popping up in his mind — how attached to the mystery man his dream self feels. No, not even his dream self. As irrational as it sounds, his heart yearns to fall asleep again, to dream about the prince some more, stay in his presence for just a little longer. On one hand, Hongjoong knows; the man, as seemingly perfect as he is, is nothing more than just a part of his dreams, but on the other…

The moment he woke up, he'd wished he hadn't roused from his sleep so soon.

The thought is scary. He doesn't want to ponder about it any more, doesn't want to indulge in the idea because he knows, this isn't him. This is unfamiliar, and a bit too strange for his liking. Why is he getting so worked up over a simple dream? It doesn't feel right.

Fortunately, a phone call cuts right through his stream of thoughts, and he pauses, glancing at his phone. If it were anyone else than Yeosang or San, Hongjoong wouldn't pick up; there's something about phone calls that never fails to make him nervous, maybe it's how he can hear a person's voice but can't see their face, can't judge their reactions— but it is, in fact, Yeosang. So Hongjoong huffs out a sigh and reaches out for the phone.

"Yes?"

At first, all he gets in reply is a grumble, but then Yeosang clears his throat and says, "you know, a simple _hello_ wouldn't hurt."

He rolls his eyes at the comment, "yeah, no, I know that you wouldn't call me without an ulterior motive, so, yes? What is it?"

There's a shuffle. Hongjoong isn't sure what it could be, but then comes the unmistakable sound of flipping pages, and so he thinks he might have an idea what Yeosang's doing.

The flipping stops, "...I just wanted to check up on you."

Though Hongjoong's got the feeling that this isn't the whole truth. His eyebrows rise, but he decides not to call Yeosang out just yet, "I'm doing fine. Well, as fine as I can while procrastinating on an essay that's due in three days. Why?"

A beat of silence, Yeosang makes a conflicted noise before replying, "did you have… that dream again?"

"I _knew_ you wouldn't call me just to ask how I'm doing," he mutters, delighted at the offended huff the words earn him. A heavy _thud_ follows, Hongjoong assumes it must be the book Yeosang was holding that fell, and the moment Yeosang curses Hongjoong is _positive_ his assumption is right.

He waits as the other struggles to pick it up again, until Yeosang speaks up again, voice strained, "it's, technically, still checking up on you— I was a bit worried, okay? Can you just answer the question?"

That's what does it. Hongjoong knows; Yeosang never admits to things like that. He's more likely to silently mope than outright say that something's bothering him. He's the type of person that shrugs off one's attempts at showing affection and the type to play off his own (rare) clinging as just being casually touch starved. The fact that he even used the word _worried_ stuns Hongjoong enough into prolonged silence, and he blinks down at his notes until Yeosang sighs, clearly impatient.

So, before Yeosang has the chance to prod further, he says, "yes… I mean, no. But yes. Kinda."

"Huh?"

He can almost _see_ the confusion on Yeosang's face, can imagine the way his eyebrows furrow whenever something throws him off — usually, he'd find the mental image hilarious, but right now, he's too busy trying to find the right words to explain himself.

He wets his lips, making a mental note to actually _use_ that lip balm San chucked at him a few days ago before their classes — " _I can't stand looking at your dry ass lips,_ " he'd whined, and Hongjoong's pride hurt a little but he couldn't deny San's accusation — before finally murmuring, "well, it wasn't the same dream, but the prince was there again."

A beat of silence, Yeosang seems to mull it over. Hongjoong isn't even sure why the other is so worried about his dreams in the first place; it's not like he was ever really interested in any of his nightmares before. Now, though, Yeosang hums, a quiet, contemplative sound, "what was different about it?"

"What wasn't?" Hongjoong mutters back, then follow his sass with an apology (he should drop this habit of speaking without thinking), "uh— in my first dream, we were just, you know, chilling in the middle of a field? But this time, the prince, and the rest of his family I guess, were in the middle of a meal. We didn't talk at all, unlike the first dream I had," he stops, trying to remember any other important detail that might have went over his head, but in the end, nothing comes up, "I… think that's it?"

Yeosang makes a contemplative sound, the one that Hongjoong has heard one too many times not to recognize — as far as Hongjoong knows, it means that Yeosang knows more than he's letting on. Or, at least, has a theory he firmly believes in, based on the evidence at hand. Maybe, just maybe, if Hongjoong presses on, he might irritate Yeosang enough to reveal it.

So he parts his lips, a question already at the tip of his tongue, but he's interrupted before he even gets to say anything.

"Is there anything to eat in this house?" Wooyoung yells from downstairs, voice bordering on a whine, "Hongjoong! I'm _starving_!"

Rolling his eyes, he mutters a _wait_ into the phone, then holds it away from his face as he shouts back, "you can easily make yourself something to eat— I'm busy!"

He's pretty sure he hears Yeosang chuckle, as if there's something amusing about Wooyoung bothering him for absolutely no reason. In that exact second, he makes a mental note to never let the two of them meet, they'd probably get along _too_ well for Hongjoong's liking.

"You know damn well that I can't cook! Do you want me to die, Joong? Do you want your brother's death on your hands?"

He groans, making sure it's loud enough that Wooyoung hears, because he knows how dramatic Wooyoung gets after his Friday classes, and if there's any right moment to give up before the whining gets worse, it would be now.

So he brings his phone closer once more and drops his voice to a mutter, "sorry, I have to go."

Yeosang still sounds way too amused when he replies, "yeah, I figured."

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath in, holds it for a moment, then slowly releases it.

"I hate him."

" _Sure_ you do."

  


『❀』

  


_There's a book in Hongjoong's hands._

_He blinks down at it, scans the handwritten words on the page. Unlike the last dream he had, now he is alone. The silence is almost deafening, though Hongjoong is just glad to have a moment of peace — something he doesn't get inside the castle as often as he wished he had._

_Standing by a writing desk, the scent of ink fills his lungs with every breath he takes; he's distracted, but he can't come up with a reason why. The sentences he reads simply fly over his head, and in the end, he huffs and closes the book, dropping it on the desk with a wince._

_Just as he's about to turn around, a pair of arms sneaks around his middle, gently guiding him back — the embrace is so familiar, he doesn't even have to check to know who it is. At first, he smiles at the thought, but then he swats at Seonghwa's arm with a sharp whisper, "stop, we're literally in the castle, what if someone sees us?"_

_In reply, the other only nuzzles his face into Hongjoong's shoulder, showing no intention of pulling away. He chuckles, the sound muffled by the material of Hongjoong's suit, yet it still doesn't fail to make his chest feel all kinds of fuzzy and warm and everything that Hongjoong would never admit out loud._

"They won't," but how could he sound so sure? They've been hiding their relationship for years, that's true, but Hongjoong gets the feeling they've been pushing their luck — lately, at least. As if Seonghwa didn't know how severe the punishment would be if anyone found out.

_"I'm still worried," he murmurs back, and Seonghwa's grip tightens for a bit, dragging him even closer._

_"It won't happen. Trust me."_

_If only he could be as positive as Seonghwa._

_He doesn't bother to reply verbally. He knows not to dwell too deep into the topic, he's been overthinking it for quite some time now, they're both aware of that fact. Bringing it up every few days, he can't help but think the older is already tired of Hongjoong's paranoia._

_And the thought makes him feel guilty._

_Not that he'd ever doubt Seonghwa. There's not a single person on this Earth that he trusts more than the man currently holding him. The thing is, even if he knows he's being irrational, he can't stop the anxiety once it roots itself in his mind._

_He sighs, leaning his head back so that it rests on Seonghwa's chest. Seonghwa had always made him feel safe — the fear of getting caught, the paranoia, it's all new. He doesn't even know where it came from. It's as if, the older he gets, the more antsy he becomes. Ridiculous, but unfortunately, that's just how it is._

_Finally, Seonghwa straightens up, but still makes sure to keep his voice down as he says, "Though, I haven't seen you all day. I'd expected you to greet me the moment I woke up, yet it was Yunho instead, and later I asked Mingi about you, but he didn't have any answer either— what happened? Are you sick? You don't seem to be."_

_The words cause him to freeze, and he nibbles on his lip, suddenly self-conscious again, "I… I asked Yunho to cover for me, and helped in the kitchens in his place, that's all. I just didn't want to… you know."_

_He hears Seonghwa hum, but doesn't turn to face him, "are you really _that_ scared of someone finding out? It's not like we can't control ourselves, it's been years, Hongjoong."_

_"No— you don't understand. I can keep to myself, but you know how hard it is to not let it show," his voice breaks, and he takes a calming breath, gesturing vaguely, "there are some things you simply _can't_ control — like the way I look at you, if someone were to really pay attention! There's no way they wouldn't notice—"_

_With that, he shrugs Seonghwa's arms off and turns around, just so they can actually talk face to face, but he doesn't expect the other to look so… amazed._

_"The way you look at me…?" Seonghwa repeats, dumbstruck, and Hongjoong makes a frustrated noise, pointing to his face._

_"Yes! Because I'm in love with you! Doesn't it show? Doesn't it?"_

_He watches as Seonghwa's eyes widen for a split second, but then his gaze softens. He's staring down at Hongjoong with an emotion that he can't exactly pinpoint — it's a feeling he couldn't simply describe with words, an emotion that stirs something deep inside his chest, and soon he finds himself unable to breathe in, too fixated on waiting for Seonghwa's answer._ _Finally, finally, Seonghwa closes his eyes, his lips twitching up, just a shadow of a smile before he meets Hongjoong's gaze once more, "I am in love with you, too."_

_And just like that, all the fight leaves Hongjoong's body._

_It's the first time he's heard that sentence from Seonghwa._

  


『❀』

  


For the first time in his life, Hongjoong wakes up with tears flooding his eyes.

He sniffles, blinking a few times in effort to get rid of them, but it doesn't work — the tears start leaking down slowly, one by one, and he just doesn't understand what's happening to him. Why is he so emotional? What _is_ this emotion? He's not sad, not exactly, but they're not happy tears either.

It's the middle of the night, his own hiccups being the only sound that fills the room. He's used to waking up at weird hours, but there's something different about it today, something that tugs at his heart in a way he doesn't recognize and his chest just… hurts.

He bites his lip to hopefully keep himself quiet and raises his hand, harshly rubbing the tears away. He just doesn't get it, doesn't get why he feels this way, why he keeps dreaming of Seonghwa, why he's starting to fall in love with someone who _doesn't exist_.

It's then that he realizes it — the overwhelming ache in his chest, it's exactly that. Nostalgia. Except he's longing for something that never happened.

But what if…

What if it did?

Immediately after the thought enters his mind, he shakes his head, as if that alone could get rid of the ridiculous idea. Of course it never happened, it's all a dream. A simple dream, that for some reason Hongjoong keeps reliving. Is he going mad? Is that what's happening?

What a shame.

He closes his eyes tightly, turning in his bed so he can bury his face in the pillows. He can't breathe lying like this, but maybe that'll stop him from pathetically crying. It's only a few moments later, when his lungs start to burn and he feels lightheaded, that he finally lifts his head, turning to his side and forcing himself to fall asleep again.

He just wants to stop overthinking all of this.

  


『❀』

  


_It's raining._

_This kind of weather isn't too common at this time of the year, so to say that Seonghwa's ecstatic would be an understatement. And Hongjoong? Hongjoong is just happy to see him like this._

_Sneaking out isn't so difficult anymore after they've done it countless times. Fortunately, Hongjoong's paranoia doesn't bother him as much anymore, or at least it seemed to let him live in peace for just a few weeks. He doesn't feel nervous as they leave the castle grounds, though the fact may be influenced by Jongho covering for them — either way, as far as Hongjoong is concerned, all is good._

_He watches as Seonghwa skips ahead — he's taller than Hongjoong, and at any other moment, he'd curse the other's long legs, but now all he can do is hurry after him and watch as Seonghwa runs forward, towards the forest._

_It's a place Hongjoong knows well, maybe even better than the back of his hand. It's not a popular place that people often visit, neither the noblemen nor the commoners, and there's a small clearing in the middle of the forest, the tall grass field that Hongjoong loves visiting so much. He's discovered it even before love blossomed between the two of them, and showed it to Seonghwa sometime after — the quiet, peaceful field… their safe space._

_It's also where they're headed to now. Or, that's what he guesses. The ground is wet under his feet, his boots already dirty from the mud, but he's not worried about slipping and falling. Instead, he stares, amazed, as Seonghwa finally slows down by the time they near the clearing, twirling in place before sending Hongjoong a smile._

_Hongjoong stops, only then realizing he's out of breath, but he can't find it in himself to mind when he's met with the sight of Seonghwa dancing in the rain._

_And the thing is — Hongjoong knows Seonghwa is beautiful, only a blind person wouldn't be able to notice it. But like this, with the genuine grin on his lips, his wet fringe sticking to his forehead and his clothes absolutely drenched — he just looks so happy._

_And all that because of the smallest thing. A simple rainfall._

_If it's even still possible at this point, Hongjoong finds himself falling for Seonghwa even deeper._

  


『❀』

  


"Yeosang, you haven't mentioned that book in a while."

The three of them are sitting in San's room, in the middle of watching some movie that Hongjoong doesn't really pay attention to anymore. He's grown bored of it before even thirty minutes passed, and he's fidgeting with his phone, mind elsewhere until suddenly San's voice brings him back to reality. His head snaps up, and he glances at San, then drags his gaze towards Yeosang, who looks just as surprised as Hongjoong feels.

"Huh?" he huffs out, which earns him an eye roll from San.

"You know, the one that you got so obsessed with. What happens next? You never actually updated us on it."

That's when Yeosang seems to get it, his mouth forming a silent _oh_. He wiggles in place where he's sitting in between them on the couch, almost causing Hongjoong to fall.

"Well, I mean, the servant is coping with the prince's death, right?" he says, and Hongjoong doesn't miss the way his gaze casts on Hongjoong for a moment but then quickly looks away, "I don't think there's much to say about it?"

But San doesn't look convinced. Hongjoong doesn't feel so either, and they exchange a look before San speaks up again, "really? How is he doing it? Does he end up getting over it?"

Yeosang squints at him for a couple of seconds, to which San only shrugs.

Finally, Yeosang raises his hands and mutters, "how am I supposed to know? I haven't finished the book yet," but then he lets his arms rest on his knees again and he mulls it over again, "okay, fine. What do you want me to say? He's struggling, but his friends are helping him cope."

That's what piques Hongjoong's interest again, and he lifts an eyebrow, turning to face the other, "his friends?"

At first, Yeosang only stares back at him. Hongjoong has no idea what the other might be thinking, but something about his gaze suddenly makes him uncomfortable.

"...Yes," he starts, still carefully observing Hongjoong. Only after a beat does he look away, "there's… a few of them. Another servant, just like him. A valet, maybe? I think his name is Mingi. He mostly takes care of the prince's older brother. There's also Yunho… though he's more of a cook. Or something. I don't know, it wasn't really specified but it's mentioned that he spends most of his time in the royal kitchens."

Realization is slowly dawning on Hongjoong, anxiety seeping down his body. He holds his breath in hopes of keeping it down, even as Yeosang continues.

"There's also this one dude… Jongho? I think he might be a duke or something."

They move on. San asks something, Yeosang goes on, but Hongjoong isn't listening anymore.

Why does this book fit his dreams so perfectly?

It's only a book. And his dreams are just… dreams. At this point he has to keep reminding himself that, because he seems to forget that detail way too often — as if he's starting to believe in all this nonsense.

It's wrong on so many levels, and yet.

He still can't shake the feeling that something's not right even as he makes his way back home.

It's pouring again, but San, being the good friend that he sometimes is, lent him a spare umbrella. It's nothing fancy: solid black, a bit on the heavier side. Hongjoong holds it up just enough that he can move his head freely, but also low enough to hopefully keep his chest safe from the rain, too. He is hyper aware of the sound of the raindrops hitting the soft material, for seemingly no reason at all — it doesn't help him clear his thoughts, quite the contrary. He keeps getting reminded of the last dream he had.

Of Seonghwa… dancing in the rain.

He lifts his free hand, almost even pinches himself before he remembers himself and drops his arm back down. It's no use; he knows he's not dreaming. Why then, does he feel like this is wrong? Like he's in the wrong place. Like he doesn't belong here, on the side of the street in the middle of downpour.

His clothes stick to his skin, wet and cold. Even his socks got caught in the rain, his shoes definitely not made for this kind of weather. He just hopes he won't get sick.

Dragging his feet ahead, he lifts the umbrella a bit, casting his gaze on the empty road before him. Of course no one would be as stupid as him to go out right now. In his defense, though, it wasn't raining as heavily back when he left San's house — he thought it would've stopped by now.

Like this, he's alone. He knows there's a difference between the words 'alone' and 'lonely' but the fine line seems to be fading. He's longing for company of one, specific person.

The one who smiled at him so sweetly. The one who laughed so freely. The one who danced in the rain with no care in the world. As if for just that one second, he could forget who he is, his responsibilities as a prince and the consequences of sneaking out — with someone of lower social rank, at that.

Hongjoong's heart aches, and he halts in the middle of the sidewalk. It hurts, an actual, physical pain that he can feel in his chest. The umbrella tips to the side with how weak his hands suddenly feel, knees threatening to give out under his weight.

But he doesn't care. He doesn't care if he'll catch a cold anymore.

All he wants is to have Seonghwa by his side again.

  


『❀』

  


_This is wrong. This is so, so wrong._

_He should have trusted his gut. But then he trusts Seonghwa with his life, and Seonghwa shot down his nervousness once more, the rational one in this relationship — "you're paranoid again," he murmured, rubbing a comforting circle into Hongjoong's back, "it's going to be okay. Trust me."_

_Curse the fact that he actually did._

_The first red flag should have been the tower. It's older than most of the castle grounds, not even as tall as the castle itself. Hongjoong always considered it to be a safety hazard. But there's something at the top of it, something extremely important — being just a simple servant, he never got the chance to hear what, exactly it is, but he's got some guesses. Either way, if it all works out, he's going to either confirm or debunk his theory._

_The tower is placed fairly far away. The trip doesn't take too long, though Hongjoong has to admit it bores him. They're accompanied by a couple other maids, some that Hongjoong doesn't recognize, and a few hooded silhouettes — at least, to Hongjoong they're just that. He's at the back, where his place is, because, of course he can not possibly come closer and overhear their conversation with the prince._

_No matter how hard he tries to calm down, to focus, he can't help but worry. The red of their cloaks — it's not something Hongjoong recognizes. Their faces hidden by the hoods they're wearing, the thought that they might not be who they say they are keeps popping up in Hongjoong's mind._

_The thing is — entering the tower is not an easy thing. Despite it being an old building, everyone is aware that walking inside is not a good idea. The staircases are steep, the floors far from safe to walk on, and even though he's heard numerous times that it's impossible that the tower would ever cave in, he just… doesn't believe that._

_As they make their way up, Hongjoong startles at even the smallest noise. He can hear one maid's responding giggle, as if he's the weird one for being anxious. Why is no one else concerned? Do they not realise how dangerous this may be?_

_In the end, he keeps quiet and climbs the rest of the stairs ignoring his instincts that tell him to leave, or, well, ignoring them as well as he can when there's nothing else to distract him._

_Until one of the hooded men halts and gestures for everyone to do so._

_Hongjoong's anxiety spikes. What are they waiting for? A sound? A sight? He hates having to question everything, hates being powerless in a situation like this._

_The fact that he's growing more and more uneasy by the second doesn't help._

_After what feels like hours, the same person turns to face them, calling out for one of the maids. Hongjoong has a bad feeling about this, but it's not like he can voice his worries; so, instead, he watches as the same maid that laughed at him before hurries forward and up, climbing the steps that Hongjoong wouldn't trust enough to land on himself — something about them just doesn't sit right with him, like a wrong piece of a puzzle, and he deems the risk not worth it._

_But so far it doesn't seem that bad. Hell, for a second Hongjoong's even convinced that it is, indeed, just his paranoia speaking._

_And then the steps under the maid collapse._

_There's not much time to think — the one thing Hongjoong was afraid of happened, and it's not just the few steps that are faulty. This entire tower has stood on land for way longer than it probably should have. The moment a part of it breaks, the entire building will follow._

_Then, he remembers it. The book. What Yeosang told him the first time he brought it up._

_"Early in the book, the prince dies— a tower collapses with the prince in it, the servant being the only one inside to come out alive."_

_Hongjoong's eyes widen and he turns a panicked stare at Seonghwa, who seems as shocked as everyone around them. There's unmistakable fear in his eyes, and it pains Hongjoong so, so much to see it._

_In the end, it's not his own life that he's scared for. He knows, from Yeosang's words, that he'll make it. It's Seonghwa that he's worried about. This can't be the end. It can't be._

_The last thing he sees is Seonghwa's terrified expression before the ground gives out under his feet and he falls._

Hongjoong wakes up.

Or did he lose consciousness?

He doesn't know. He doesn't. All he knows is that he has to go back.

He has to save Seonghwa— somehow.

  


『❀』

  


"Why are we on the rooftop?"

Yeosang's voice carries over the wind, loud and confused. It's not often that he's heard the younger sound like this — so genuinely puzzled, as if Hongjoong's actions were somehow unexplainable to him, irrational, even. It's just a simple thing, them being on the rooftop of the university building, except they're both aware of the fact that Hongjoong's afraid of heights and wouldn't be caught dead hanging out in a place like this on his own free will. With the chilly air biting at his skin, he sits on the fairly short barrier, feet only just resting on the edge; he won't look down, he won't, he's not brave enough for it, so he keeps his eyes on Yeosang instead, the boy standing on the other side of the barrier and looking at Hongjoong with discomfort written all over his face.

He shrugs, "I don't know. I just thought we should talk, and this was the first place that came to mind."

Yeosang regards him quietly for a moment, then nods, seemingly believing his explanation, "since no one ever comes here?"

"Exactly."

Yeosang sighs, curling down so he can comfortably lean his weight on the barrier — as comfortably as one can with the metal so cold to touch, but then, if the fact bothers him, he doesn't show it. He gives Hongjoong a look that's probably meant to say _something_ , but Hongjoong just can't tell what. He's not even sure why. Ever since the dreams started, he's got the feeling they've grown distant. Or maybe it's just Hongjoong that's been isolating himself. It sounds possible, after all.

Then, Yeosang drags his gaze ahead; staring off into seemingly nothing. The silence between them should feel familiar. It should feel comfortable. But instead, there's something tense in the way Yeosang doesn't meet his eye, as if the both of them aren't entirely honest with the other.

"What did you want to talk about, then?" Yeosang finally asks, and Hongjoong stiffens.

He drops his gaze down, before remembering where he is and quickly glancing up again, the short sight of the ground so far away already filling him with panic. Careful to keep his eyes on the sky above, he clears his throat, then says, "I just… I guess I just wanted to talk with you, to make sure that I'm still sane."

Startled, Yeosang turns to look at him; he can see it from the corner of his eye, but stubbornly, he doesn't meet Yeosang's concerned gaze. He can't.

"What do you mean?"

He grips the barrier tighter, leaning back; his feet slip over the edge, but he quickly draws them back. Why does he feel so scared, all of sudden?

"It's just that, these dreams that I've been having lately… I can't stop thinking about them. About the prince. It almost feels as if he's a real person," he explains, keeping his voice low. As if, if he doesn't speak any louder than a whisper, the whole situation could be regarded as just… a dream. As if speaking any louder would make it real, "is that weird? It feels like I'm falling for someone that doesn't exist."

"Joong—" Yeosang chimes in, but then cuts himself off when Hongjoong finally meets his gaze. He nibbles on his lip, a few seconds passing before he finally continues, "it's just a dream. Isn't that, like, a thing? Confusing dreams with reality? Maybe you should… you know. Talk to a psychologist, or something."

Whatever Hongjoong needed to hear, this wasn't it.

He turns his head, averting eye contact. His eyebrows furrow, an ugly feeling blooming in his chest. Yeosang's wrong. Hongjoong _knows_ he's wrong. He has to be.

"I'm not going crazy," he snaps back. His voice still doesn't rise in volume, but basing on the way he can see Yeosang flinch, it sounds just as harsh as a yell, "I'm _not_."

A beat passes, neither of them move. Hongjoong's thoughts are running wild and when Yeosang speaks up, he does so slowly, like he's carefully picking every word, "I didn't say you are."

Hongjoong juts out his lower lip, "but you implied it."

Yeosang doesn't respond. The lack of a reply only unsettles Hongjoong further; like this, sitting on top of the barrier, next to the person he's always trusted but now feels so distant, it's so… uncomfortable. On so many levels. His throat feels tight, and he can't shake this feeling, a shiver crawling up his spine. He chances a glance down again, and all it results in is another spike of panic; his vision swirls, mouth suddenly dry.

This feels wrong.

Everything feels wrong.

Hongjoong doesn't belong here. Not in this school, not in this time, not in this world. This universe. His place is next to Seonghwa; and the prince isn't here.

But he can't be dead either. Hongjoong knows he's not dead. Not yet. Hongjoong can still save him. He _will_ save Seonghwa.

But to do so, he has to return to where he belongs.

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, pushing off the barrier. All he hears is Yeosang's gasp before his feet slip off the edge; if the other screams, Hongjoong doesn't catch it over the sound of his own heartbeat thudding in his ears.

He falls.

And then he wakes up.

  


『❀』

  


It's silent. So silent, even, that for a moment, Hongjoong thinks he might still be dreaming. His chest aches, but not in the way one does after getting hit — instead, it's the pain that only comes with feeling _too much_. An overwhelming amount of emotions, so much that he's unable to tell them all apart.

Most importantly, there's a sense of loss that lingers, deep down, almost lost in the middle of this chaos.

He chooses to ignore it.

To his relief, when he opens his eyes, he's in that familiar field again.

He was right.

He didn't go mad.

This is where he belongs.

"Hongjoong?"

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact! all of this is based on a dream i had, like, half a year ago. who would have thought that eventually i'd turn it into a fic.
> 
> anyway, here's my [twitter](https://twitter.com/ddonibell) if you want to hmu!
> 
> tbh i don't know if i should continue this fic, since it is a bit... yeah... but if any of you want a second (and last) chapter, please tell me!!


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